"Come here, sleepy head" Chummy murmured, taking the untroubled body of her son from the floor of the sitting room where he had been dozing for at least the past half hour.
"We can't have you falling asleep like a tramp any old where!" she laughed as he protested in his sleep before the fifteen month old opened his eyes for seconds, checking who had rudely disturbed his rest, before succumbing again.
"You, young Sir, need to say goodnight to your Daddy before he goes to work". She never referred to Peter as his Father or 'Pa' as she had has a child to her own. Life was going to be different for Freddie Noakes and Peter was going to be Daddy, Dad or currently 'Dada'.
Chummy trudged up the stairs, Freddie out like a light again, as Peter met her at the top, freshly shaved and about to don the last of his uniform. He suppressed a smile.
"Was he asleep on the floor again?" he asked, seeing the rumpled state of his son.
"One has no idea why he prefers the floor. He wasn't even asleep on the hearth rug!" she commented as she followed him into the bedroom.
"He sleeps" Peter replied. "That's all we need to be grateful for".
"And you know his naps tend to strike without warning!"
Chummy nodded as she sat with her son, blissfully curled up in her arms on the edge of the bed. That was one thing that she had not perhaps reflected on. Since the drama of the way he had entered the world and whilst it had not been plain sailing all the way, he was generally quite a good natured young chap who ate and slept and hit all of the milestones he needed to right on time. Her worries that he may have been harmed during the traumatic birth seemed to be slowly slipping away.
"What time is Shelagh arriving?" Peter asked, regulation tie being tucked under his shirt collar. He had expressed many a time how he was pleased that this friendship had been forged.
"At 7" his wife replied, taking the small hand of her son as even in sleep he grabbed hold of her.
"Say hello to me for her?" he asked.
"I will" Chummy said, smiling down at her sleeping son.
"I was asking the baby" he said, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
"He will dribble all over her, I know that".
"More teeth?" Peter replied. Teeth had been Fred's main affliction and the cause of recent snuffles and the temperatures that went with them but the teething ring Cynthia had bought him when he was born certainly did the trick even though it had been chewed and chewed already and any teeth more, it would need replacing.
"I think so" she replied, "I can feel one of his canines under his gum".
"Poor little chap" Peter replied, pulling up his braces before addressing his wife. "You say 'hello' to Shelagh for me instead then".
Some time later, Chummy let Freddie slip from her knee to stand holding tight to her skirt as he gained his balance carefully negotiating a turn before Shelagh felt his hand take hold of her skirt too as he set off around the back of the settee.
"I cannot believe he is so mobile now" Shelagh commented, checking where he had gone to.
"He's 15 months of monster!" Chummy replied. "Opened the cupboard under the stairs the other day and as quick as a flash he was in there! I could well have shut him in if he had not fallen over my shopping basket on the way in".
Shelagh laughed as Fred reappeared around the other side of the settee, giggling to himself as he stepped carefully towards her.
"This is his party piece", Chummy continued. "He sometimes tries to walk around our bed until he realises there is a wall in the way!"
"Seela" he uttered, pointing a finger at their guest.
"Yes, young man?" 'Seela' replied, quite used to the way Chummy's 'young Sir' addressed her on what had been numerous visits to the house these past months that had meant that he had come to readily recognise her. Her name was one of the many words he had now randomly picked up and every day Chummy looked forward to a new one that he would show off to his Daddy and the Sisters endlessly.
"Drink" he said, both seeing he was eyeing up the tea cups in front of them.
"Drink please!" Chummy gently scolded, even though the concept of 'please and thank you' was well and truly over his head there was no harm in him getting used to the word. "He likes cold tea" she said before looking at her watch. "One doesn't know how he bears it".
"I do think though Fred Noakes" she carried on, seeing Shelagh watch him with a smile. "It is actually your supper time let alone having a drink".
"Do you mind awfully helping me with him?" Chummy said. "I might burn our supper whilst I am there as well if I have to concentrate on that and him flinging food all over the kitchen!"
"Really?" Shelagh asked as they both stood up, her companion seeing the boy picked up and installed on his mother's hip.
"Not all the time", Chummy laughed. "He has always been a tiny bottomless pit!" she said affectionately kissing her son on the side of his head. "But when he finds something he likes he treats it with enthusiasm!"
In the kitchen she placed Fred in his high chair at the side of the table and Shelagh sat too, employed to entertain whilst supper was prepared.
"How did you know you were expecting him?" Shelagh asked, as she 'danced' with Fred as he sat in his chair, infectious giggles filling the whole room.
"Well apart from the obvious, it was the coffee blossoms outside the mission" Chummy replied, remembering that time well as she busied herself. "When we first went to Sierra Leone I loved the smell and they were beautiful to look at but all of a sudden they would make me feel so bilious. One already had an inkling when we left Poplar but it was that that did it. I had to walk around to the back door of the Mission to get in there for three weeks because one could not even pass the front door. It was as though I could smell them for miles".
"Was Peter pleased?" Shelagh asked, seemingly mesmerised by the boy that was smiling at her as he waited for his supper.
"Yes. He was. I knew how much he wanted a family". That discussion had been had long before they married.
"He wanted?" Shelagh asked noticing what she hoped was only a slip.
"We wanted", Chummy replied, correcting herself. Despite the fact she had been at war with herself, she realised long ago that she was wrong.
Chummy passed Shelagh a plastic bowl and spoon, filled with Fred's current favourite. Apple Sauce.
"Don't let him near the spoon" she continued, having borne witness to the mess Fred could create with soggy food. Dryer food she had no problems in allowing him to try to feed himself but she was not in the mood for one of Fred's attempts at redecorating the kitchen. Another day maybe.
"Have you thought about having another one?" Shelagh asked, scooping a spoonful of his supper into Fred's waiting mouth as Chummy set out about plates and cutlery.
"Do you know I was looking through all of his old clothes a fortnight ago" Chummy said, turning back to Shelagh, folding her arms across herself, "thinking I might give them to the Sisters for the charity box and Peter saw me. He dropped a subtle hint about another one".
"Well it wasn't even a hint or even subtle when I think about it!" she continued with a laugh. "He may as well have just clubbed me over the head and towed me back to his cave!"
Shelagh laughed at the image, Fred squealing in accompaniment wondering where the next spoonful was coming from, trying to make a grab for the utensil in Shelagh's hand. "Did you take the clothes to the Sisters?"
"No", Chummy smiled. "Lord help me if I after my mother in that regard but one can't say one is now trying to prevent his brother or sister!"
She could see Shelagh's face and it was clear there was something worrying her; all these questions about Freddie. Chummy paused, realising she had perhaps been too jolly about the whole thing.
"Has Dr Turner said something to upset you?"
Shelagh shook her head, a spoonful later swiping Fred's chin with his bib. "No, not intentionally".
"But?" Chummy asked, sitting down.
"Oh! We were talking about Timothy; how independent he seems to be getting even with the calipers and Patrick said how pleased he was that he wasn't a crying baby anymore. It wasn't meant badly or anything and it was only an offhand comment, but then it occurred to me that he might not welcome the baby".
"The baby?!" Chummy exclaimed, eyes brightening.
"A baby" Shelagh corrected herself, taking another spoonful to Fred's mouth.
"So you are not?"
"No" Shelagh replied, tucking her cardigan further around herself. "Chummy, in 6 weeks' time it will be a year since we married. You were 8 months pregnant on your first wedding anniversary". She had been thinking about the comparison far too much these last days.
Chummy smiled remembering that boat trip to Cadiz, unable to sleep, so uncomfortable after they had shared an anniversary walk around the deck. With Fred coming early, the promise of a 'proper anniversary when we get back' had not materialised.
"Yes", she replied. "One is hoping that it isn't going to be like that for the next 10 years though but young Sir clearly wanted to be here", Chummy concluded, brushing her son's dark locks from his forehead. "I think three children would be nice".
"I'd like one. One of mine and Patrick's. Timothy is such a lovely boy but in a few years' time he will be off on his own life and Patrick might just not want another child".
"Has he said so?"
"No" Shelagh replied, "but it feels as though time is running away and nothing has happened and if it goes on much longer I cannot imagine he will want a teenager in the house when he is retired!"
"Dr Turner will never retire!" Chummy replied, before a thought struck her.
"There's no trouble in the er…physical aspects?" she asked, feeling confident to ask her friend. She had known herself how petrified she had been regarding her wifely duties and had been greatly relieved that he had not grown bored of her.
"Oh no!" Shelagh replied, quite pleased that her skin did not turn pink. "All is satisfactory and in order".
"Good", Chummy mused. "There is something immorally congenial about the whole thing though, do you not think?" She got up again remembering the drink her son had been requesting some time ago.
"Do you know it's a relief to be able to talk to someone. Every month I have prayed and every month I've failed him".
"You are not a failure" Chummy replied, even though she knew that feeling all too well herself. "Do you really think Patrick would think that? He's probably oblivious to the whole thing. There will be a reason for it and it will happen eventually". Chummy nearly said 'have faith' but it was probably inappropriate so she refrained.
"Except 'eventually' was quickly with you" Shelagh replied, seeing Fred's yellow lidded cup full of milk, complete with bear adorning its side passed to him carefully by his mother.
"Cups already hey Freddie?" she said distracted as he attached himself to the cup, kicking away at his wooden chair.
"He worked out he could get more out of a bottle than me and then even more out of a cup than a bottle. When Peter gives him his suppertime milk though he still prefers a bottle. They keep having these man to man chats over Whiskey and milk and I stay out of the way!"
Shelagh smiled wistfully. "Patrick is a doctor. I can't think that he hasn't at least wondered why".
"If you are worried, have you thought about seeing a doctor? A different doctor" Chummy asked. "I could ask Dr Clarke at St Thomas' if he knows anyone that may be able to help. He doesn't have to know I am asking for you".
Chummy sighed as her friend stared longingly at Freddie as he metaphorically batted his eyelashes at her over the edge of his cup. It had occurred to her that she might not be able to give Peter a family, but with Freddie those fears had been assuaged. Still, who was to say that he might not be their one and only and she might just be as concerned in a year or twos time?
"Do you want me to ask?" she said.
"What can they do?" Shelagh replied. "Tell me what I already know? I have been to the library and Tuberculosis can make you infertile. It shan't be Patrick - he has Timothy". A thousand reasons had turned through her mind but it had to be her illness.
"Shelagh, you are a wonderful to Timothy. He adores you. And Aunty 'Seela' to Freddie". She took her friend's hand. "At least try to find out if the doctors can help" Chummy continued as she saw Shelagh shake her head. She had read too much in the library of 'calcified fallopian tubes' and 'blocked passages' to know that medical science could not assist. It would be a miracle for her to have a child.
"God does work in mysterious ways sometimes" Chummy said. "Have we both not seen that ourselves these last few years?"
"Yes we have," Shelagh replied, quietly. "My life took such a turn. Perhaps I have angered God by my choice to leave the Sisterhood, perhaps this was never meant to be for that reason and He has found a way to punish me".
''Vengeance is mine" Shelagh breathed, "I will repay, says the Lord. And again, the Lord will judge his people. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God''.
"Hebrews Chapter ten, thirty to thirty one", Chummy responded. "God is also just, Shelagh and when you stand in front of him, he will be so".
"When I stand before him is not now Chummy", Shelagh replied, eyes brimming with tears.
"Now, now" Chummy said, reaching across again to her friends hands again. "There will be a child out there for you somewhere; there will be. He has reasons for everything and yes, sometimes we do not understand them, but you made such a decision that He might simply be guiding you to an altogether different path again".
Shelagh nodded.
"I wish He would make that known to me" she whimpered as Chummy, seeing the tears that were overflowing now, ran around the side of the table, arms around her friend.
"He will. He will" she soothed.
"One day He will. Soon He will".